


I'm Sorry

by Keagan_Ashleigh



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anger, Angst, Dead Mary, Evil Mary Morstan, Ficlet, First Kiss, Forgiveness, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mary is Not Pregnant, Mentioned Mary Morstan, Post-Season/Series 03, Story: The Adventure of the Three Garridebs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5706070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keagan_Ashleigh/pseuds/Keagan_Ashleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has been injured badly and is in a hospital. He has an argument with Sherlock - will John forgive him for everything that happened with Mary and Moriarty?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> This was a ficlet I wrote before TAB was aired so there's a slight canon divergence in the characterization.  
> The ficlet was prompted: http://keagan-ashleigh.tumblr.com/post/132817879176/johnnlocked-add-your-ficlet-to-these-gifs

“ I am sorry.”

The words fell on their shoulders like an anvil, so heavy from all the untold. This is barely enough to express Sherlock’s feelings, and this is barely enough for John to accept easily. Sherlock went too far this time, they both know it.

“ No. Don’t say you are sorry. Don’t. You knew. All this time you let me believe I… You lied to me. Again. Why does everyone keeps lying to me?”

Sherlock closed his eyes, not knowing what to answer. He made a mistake, he was willing to accept the consequences.  
John couldn’t help but remembering Moriarty’s words right before he got shot, in a messy cloud of incoherent words all leading to the final statement: he lied to him, they all did, like he was some sort of puppet, manipulated. From Mary he could manage to swallow the pill, but not from Sherlock.

“You knew she was one of the snipers. You knew the baby wasn’t mine. You knew it was all fake. And you let me believe, and you nearly got both of us killed. Damn, Sherlock, what can I do to deserve your trust, tell me?!” Shouted John angrily while getting up from the hospital bed he was lying on.  
“John… I only figured this out after…”  
“No, shut up, Sherlock shut the fuck up, this is enough, enough of your excuses, enough.”  
“I trust you.” A desperate whisper. “All I ever did was to keep you safe.”  
“You are so stupid for a genius I begin to wonder if you’re not a fake after all, that would just be another lie in the already too long list.”

Sherlock startled and took a step back like he was punched in the guts. His whole world began to crumble, the shock so intense, his eyes widened and the tears began to flow upon his face. The words were echoing in his hears like a million drums.  
John looked away. He instantly regretted his dreadful words, but too late. He never saw Sherlock so vulnerable than in this instant.

“Did you ever…” He started, not really knowing what he wanted to ask. “Was I… something… to you? Once? Did you ever… felt?”

Another punch in the stomach. The words were acid but more the realization that John had no memory of what Sherlock told him while he was bleeding and falling into unconsciousness.

“Tell me Sherlock did you ever felt anything?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock managed to answer, out of breath.  
“Yes what?”  
“I felt. So much more than you can imagine. I felt… Everything.”  
“I have some difficulties to believe you right now.”  
“I know…”  
“No you don’t. Don’t pretend to know what it’s like.”

John crossed the distance that separated him from Sherlock who was looking at the ground, his fists clenched on his belly just as if he was pressing on an invisible wound. His breath was erratic, his limbs were shaking.

“Look at me.” Asked John. “Tell me. Why can’t you just.. trust me? Why do you left me behind? What can I do to deserve your esteem?”  
“John, there is no one in the world that I trust and value more than you.”  
“So explain. Explain, why did you lied to me about Mary? About everything?” John snorted, crying. “Why did you let me alone? Why did you let me marry her? Why did you let me believe she didn’t wanted you to be dead? Why?”  
“I didn’t knew who she was before you…”  
“That’s not what I asked.” John shouted. “You let me believe I could trust her, why?”  
“If you knew, you would have done something that would’ve alert her and I couldn’t risk…”  
“So you let me hold the hand of a woman who could kill me.”  
“No…”  
“Sherlock if you had told me sooner… I got shot, for God sake, by my murderer wife! And she also almost killed you, twice! And she is dead, and my… the baby is dead. Is that what you call a success?”  
“No.”  
“Do you realize how fucking stupid you were?”  
“Yes, I do. I do. I am sorry.”  
“Sorry is not enough.”

John cupped Sherlock’s face in his hand, forcing him to look at him in the eyes.

“Is there any truth in your lies?” He whispered. “From everything you told me. Is there something real?”  
“Yes, but you didn’t heard.”  
“Oh I did.” John exhaled with a barely audible, broken voice, before pressing his forehead against Sherlock’s. “The Hell I did. Why didn’t you tell it sooner? If you had just… told me sooner, none of this would have happen. And I hate myself. I hate myself because, Sherlock, we were both liars. We were both stupid. So stupid. Don’t say you’re sorry. I can’t even forgive myself.”

John took a step back, shaking his head, then after a long silence he said with a mortifying calm: “Go away.”  
“John…”  
“I need time. Sherlock. I can’t… forgive you now, nor I can forgive myself. Just… leave me alone.”  
“I love you.”  
“This is the whole problem. How can I be sure you mean it? You love me and then, you decidedly lied to me, you distrusted me, you fooled me. One word, Sherlock, is all I ever needed. I almost gave up on the love I had for you because you left, because you decided love wasn’t a good thing to feel. You decided love wasn’t enough to fight for. How can I be sure you mean it now?”  
“You can’t. I can’t prove you I mean it, except saying I mean it, undoubtedly and irrevocably.”

Silence.

“Let me tell you a story. Don’t interrupt me please because I am not sure I can get this out otherwise.  
This is the story of a little boy who was alone. The story of a boy who learned the hard way that the world isn’t made for love. This is the story of a little boy who kept his heart sealed into a box, never meant to be opened, because it nearly killed him once. It made him weak. Unable to save someone he cared about. So he decided to try not to care anymore.  
But one day, he met someone. Someone who wasn’t intimidated by all the thorns he wore to kept people distant. A boy who didn’t judged. Someone who believed in him. And the box started to slowly open. Each day, the other boy’s presence was an alleviation. The little boy began to dream. The little boy was afraid he could lost the only person in the world who wasn’t afraid of him. The only person in the world who trusted him. He thought the other boy didn’t cared. He thought the other boy just liked the danger, and the cleverness of the little boy. He thought the other boy couldn’t love him as much as he did.  
So he tried to keep the box closed, to keep both of them safe, to keep the boy by his side – because he persuaded himself the other boy would run away if he knew, he was ready to sacrifice his feelings to preserve their friendship - but it wouldn’t say closed, it was too late and his heart was beating too strongly.  
A bad man saw the opened box. And he used it to hurt the little boy. He threatened to hurt the other boy, and it was unacceptable. The little boy had to do what was necessary so the bad man could not hurt him. He had to disappear until the boy was safe, he had do destroy his hopes and hide his feelings, even to himself.  
But when the little boy came back after the bad man was no longer a threat, it was too late, the other boy found another heart who wasn’t afraid to beat for him, and you were happy.  
This is all I ever wanted for you, I wanted you to be happy, and you couldn’t be happy with me. I failed. Each time I tried not to feel, each time I tried to keep you safe I failed. I failed because love is a vicious motivator. I failed because I love you too much to think clearly. I failed you because I love you. Isn’t it ironical? But the most ironical in this is that there was other bad people ready to use the little boy’s feelings to hurt him and the one he loved.  
So don’t think I don’t mean it when I say there is nothing, no one, in the world, that I love more than you. All I ever did, all the mistakes I have made… Because I couldn’t shut down my heart.”

John stayed a while silent, biting his lower lip. He pressed his fingers on his eyes before he looked at Sherlock again and grabbed his shoulders.

“No. You made mistakes because you tried to shut it down. And because you misjudged the feelings of the other boy. This is your biggest mistake, because damn, Sherlock I wasn’t happy and I love you too. I always have. Now trust me on this: there is nothing now I want more than ki…”

Sherlock interrupted him with a kiss, a messy kiss, a desperate kiss, living them both out of breath. When they parted, John continued:

“I need… I don’t know what I need exactly. I thought I needed time but frankly I am tired of letting the time running out. I am so tired. I think I need to sleep.”  
“Ok.” Nodded Sherlock, while he took a step forward to leave the room. He felt John’s hand on his arm.  
“No. Come here.” He said while drawing Sherlock to the bed.

John made Sherlock lie on the bed before getting on it, putting his head on Sherlock’s chest, his arm pulling him closer. Still surprised, Sherlock closed his own around John, one hand on his back, the other caressing his hair. John fell asleep quickly.  
Sherlock couldn’t close his eyes, captivated by the man sleeping against him. After a long while, John let escape in a breath: “I forgive you”.


End file.
